


Even a Cat Appreciates Kind Words

by helico_pter



Series: A Cat Is Good Too [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bisexual Otabek Altin, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Family, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Moscow, Near Future, Saint Petersburg, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-03-09 04:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18909730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helico_pter/pseuds/helico_pter
Summary: Family. It's either a blessing or a curse. And sometimes both. Yuri wants to come out to his grandfather and draws from the experiences of the people around him to find the courage and the words. At the same time he faces the move to Japan and the deepening of his relationship with Otabek.





	1. Chapter 1

The last thing Yuri remembers his mother saying was: "Don't get anyone pregnant and marry rich." At the time, to a 6-year-old Yuri, those words had meant little.

She had been gone by the time he got back from ballet practice that day.

Afterwards he'd not seen his mother again except in pictures and a few video calls that grew rarer as Yuri grew older. She had called on his birthdays and at Christmas, and sometimes for no other reason than she was drunk and it was 4am.

Now, lying in bed with Otabek, the words come back to Yuri and he snorts. "I get it," he says.

Otabek stirs next to him. It's summer and they're both still sweaty. Yuri turns to look at Otabek, but when there's no further movement he utilises his elbow.

"Hey," he says. "Are you rich?"

This time Otabek opens his eyes. "Not really," he murmurs.

"Fuck it." Yuri sighs. "One out of two."

Otabek stretches and Yuri can feel his muscles thrum. Despite the heat and the sweat they still lie with their bodies touching. "What," Otabek says slowly. He's ridiculously useless after coming.

"Something my mother told me when I was little." Yuri sits up and reaches for his phone. His mother isn't worth any endearments to him, but he still remembers her as a mother and not just as a person named Yuliya.

Otabek's hand creeps up Yuri's back to touch the pink ends of his hair, but he says nothing. When Yuri glances at him, his eyes are closed. Yuri is used to his silences. They're seldom uncomfortable.

Yuri rolls his phone around in his hands, listening to the cat charm chime. After a while he opens the call log and finds his mother's number. It's three years since she has last contacted Yuri. His outgoing calls and messages to her number have gone unanswered for longer than that. But he would've liked to let her know he still remembers.

"Yura," Otabek says then. His voice is as gentle and soft as is his touch on Yuri's skin. He doesn't have to say more.

Yuri drops his phone on the mattress. It bounces only a little with the weight of finality. "Hey," he says. "You wanna meet my Granpa?"

Otabek's hand stills. "Yeah," he says. He's surprised.

Yuri turns away from the phone and lies back down. Otabek's arm gets caught under him, but Yuri doesn't care and Otabek doesn't pull it away. "I wanna tell him about this. I don't know how he'll take it, but..." Yuri leaves the words hanging.

Otabek curls his trapped arm, pulling Yuri into the crook of it. "I haven't told my parents, either," he says. His eyes are languid, and even his mouth is softer, which removes the usual severity of his expression.

"You aren't out to them?" Yuri doesn't bother pushing his hair from his face, or struggling against the embrace. Their relationship is still new. Six months since the GPF and most of it long distance. And honestly? Not a lot of discussion about the status of the relationship in those six months. There'd been more urgent things to take care of.

"They know I'm bi. I just haven't told them about you, specifically," Otabek elaborates. He speaks so off-handedly that Yuri's realisation takes a moment to catch up.

"You're bi?"

"Oh," Otabek voices, also realising the situation. "You didn't know."

"No," Yuri says, annoyed.

"How? You saw pictures of me with my girlfriend. You  _ commented _ on some."

"I just didn't think about it, okay?" Yuri growls, even more annoyed.

"Okay." Otabek lets it go. "But does it matter that I'm bi?" Otabek asks. He uses his free hand to carefully move away the hair from Yuri's face. The long strands are sticking to them both even though their sweat is cooling.

"No!" Yuri repeats and pushes Otabek's hand away. "That tickles." Cuddling naked is fine for a little while, but there's a point where it just becomes more aggravating than satisfying.

"What was that about your mother earlier?" Otabek shifts so Yuri has the freedom to choose whether to stay or move away.

Yuri heaves a sigh as deep as the Russian winter. "She told me to never get anyone pregnant and to marry rich."

"You've never mentioned her before."

Yuri rolls away and grabs the first pair of sweatpants he sees to pull on. "Not much to say. Not much of a mother."

"So why now?" Otabek sits up, but isn't in a hurry to get dressed.

"I just remembered it." Yuri finds a t-shirt from the pile of clothes on the chair next to his bed. "Think I was around six when she said it. And then she left."

Otabek says nothing, which Yuri appreciates because he doesn't want to hear it, whatever it is. Otabek sits and waits, looking at Yuri with a blank face.

"Okay, look," Yuri huffs, pulling his hair out from under the neck of the shirt. "She was 17 when she had me. Stuck around for a few years before leaving for good. Don't know where she is, don't care."

"Okay," Otabek echoes him, not challenging, not asking for more.

Yuri goes to the only bookshelf he has, and which he uses mostly for trophies and medals instead of books. He shifts a pile of magazines away and brings Otabek the bottom one. It's older and the gloss of its pages has faded a bit. The cover photo is of a girl with the same blond hair and green eyes as Yuri, posing in clothes that are far too revealing for her age. Seeing her makes Yuri scowl so he tosses the magazine on the bed.

"She was pretty famous for a while," Yuri explains, crossing his arms and staring down at the magazine cover. "She had one decent pop song or something. And then I happened. Guess she really hates me for that."

Otabek looks at the magazine and then at Yuri, clearly comparing, and there's some concern in the way he does it. Yuri isn't sure what he feels when he looks at pictures of his mother. He remembers her, is all. She sometimes cuddled him and dressed him up, and then sometimes she didn't even admit he existed. Yuri doesn't feel hurt by it because she was never his parent, not really. Her father, Yuri's grandfather, was the one who took care of him and loved him and raised him.

Otabek turns the magazine around and slides it back towards Yuri. "Okay," he says again, but it's not non-committal. His expression is uneasy.

"So," Yuri shrugs. "That's my mother." He's glad Otabek's made the magazine face down, and he stares at the back of it pensively while Otabek gets up and pulls on some clothes, as well.

"Hey," Otabek says then. He comes close but doesn't touch Yuri. "You do know it's not your fault, right?"

"What?"

"Whatever it is your mother blames you for."

"I know," Yuri says. "She's a fucking idiot." He knows. He  _ knows _ it's not his fault. He doesn't  _ need _ a mother, he's got his grandfather. He's got skating. He sighs and looks at Otabek. "Thanks anyway."

Otabek nods. "So you'd marry me if I was rich?" he says and it makes Yuri snort with relieved laughter.

"Get the fuck out," he says and points at the door. He sweeps up the magazine and stuffs it back on the shelf, behind everything else where his mother belongs.

-

Their breakfast is turned into a brunch by the late hour they enjoy it, sitting at Yuri's small kitchen table. It's pushed into a corner to be out of the way and has only two chairs as company. It's enough for someone who almost never sits down to eat.

There's a small balcony attached to the kitchen and Yuri's braced the door open. A soft breeze that carries the cries of the seagulls as well as the silty smell of the nearby canals flutters in the curtains and around Yuri's ankles. He pulls his legs up onto the chair and tears into some black bread. Otabek's on the other chair, leaning back on it, balancing it on two legs against the wall.

"He's taken me to see  _ Le Corsaire _ three times already," Yuri explains between bites. "Just to look at some jumps. I mean, okay, yeah, the jumps are great, but I'm not a fucking ballet dancer."

Otabek looks at him over his cup of tea. "So why'd you make me watch you practise  _ fouettés _ for an hour?"

"I didn't make you do anything, Altin," Yuri says hotly. "You're the one who wanted to watch me  _ get sweaty _ ." Yuri encloses the words with vehement air quotes.

"You're right," Otabek says without any sign of remorse. He hides his smile behind his tea cup. "That one's on me."

Yuri reaches out with one foot to give Otabek a kick. It rocks his chair slightly, but not enough to disturb his balance. "Yeah, so fuck off," he says, confident of his high ground, but his blossoming smile belies his words.

Otabek puts his cup down and lets his chair fall forwards onto all four legs. "Hey," he says so sincerely it catches Yuri off guard. "Why figure skating?"

"What do you mean?" Yuri asks. Otabek's face, as usual, doesn't offer any hint of why he's asking, just that he earnestly wants to know.

"Why'd you pick figure skating over ballet?"

Yuri snorts. "Have you seen ballet?" He flips his hair away from his face. "I wasn't going to become scaffolding for some prima ballerina and be upstaged."

"You thought that at the age of six?" Otabek has his arm on the edge of the table and now braces his chin on it, leaning towards Yuri.

"Well... No," Yuri admits. "I thought I got to go faster on skates."

"And no one can upstage you on ice," Otabek says.

"Yeah!" Yuri agrees and slams his palm against the top of the table, making their breakfast dishes rattle. Potya, sleeping in a spot of sun nearby, is startled awake and meows in confusion.

Yuri slips onto the floor and pulls his cat into his lap to kiss her and reassure her. She settles into the crook of his crossed legs and is soon happily asleep again, fluffy belly showing. His only regret in travelling for competitions is having to leave her behind. And now with an impending move to Japan for almost half a year, he won't see her again until Christmas at his grandfather's.

He looks up and finds Otabek watching him. There's a shaft of sunlight between them that picks up all the floating dust and cat hair as a glittery shower. He's suffused with warmth, which is as alien as it is peaceful.

"Hey," Otabek says again and leans forwards so some of the sunlight hits the side of his face. It makes one of his eyes golden, and the other in the shadow almost black. Yuri's skin tightens with a shiver of attraction. "I want you to meet my family," Otabek continues.

Yuri inhales tension into his body, unease fighting to suppress the charm of Otabek's sharp cheekbones. "Do I  _ have _ to?" he makes a face.

"No."

Yuri appreciates the answer because it frees him from obligation. He exhales some of the tension gathered just a moment ago. "Then okay," he says. "I'll meet them."

Otabek smiles and maybe it's only a small twitch of his lips, but Yuri can see his delight. "Everyone in my family already loves you."

Yuri snorts and looks down at his cat, fluffing her belly. "How? They haven't even met me."

"I've told them a lot about you."

"But not that I'm your boyfriend," Yuri says. Otabek remains silent so Yuri looks up, following the line of Otabek's foot up to his hip and then along his arm to his shoulder and face. Skirting around the edges to avoid being drawn in.

At the end of it Otabek's expression has a cast which even Yuri has trouble deciphering. "Because even I didn't know you were my boyfriend," Otabek says softly.

"Hey, fuck you," Yuri complains. "So you let just anyone cum on your face?"

Otabek raises his eyebrows, but he isn't shocked. Yuri has never had much success in shocking him even though he sometimes tries to say outrageous things just for that purpose. Usually when he's annoyed or stressed, and right now he's a little bit of both. But mostly he just can't stop thinking about doing that again as soon as possible.

"No," Otabek says then and Yuri sees the brief smirk before Otabek sits up so the sun no longer illuminates face. "I'll call my mother right now and tell her you're my boyfriend, if you want," he continues and grabs his phone off the table where it lies face down next to his tea cup.

Yuri groans, but Otabek is absolutely unapologetic. "I don't care," Yuri mutters and crosses his arms over Potya. She rolls out of his lap and goes to wash herself, settling into the sun again. "Do what you want."

"Okay," Otabek says and hits call. He keeps looking at Yuri the whole time and Yuri is stuck in his gaze like some pathetic moth. Then Otabek's mother picks up and Yuri realises it's a video call because Otabek holds up the phone and waves while greeting his mother in Kazakh.

They talk a little bit and the only bit Yuri understands is Otabek saying his name. Then he shifts on his chair so he gets Yuri in the picture as well and does a thumbs-up. Fuck, he does that to his mother, too? Yuri is so distracted by that he misses it when the woman on screen calls his name.

"Hello? Yuri?" she repeats and Yuri sits up, back as straight as possible.

"Hello," he says guardedly and glares at Otabek who moves on the floor next to him, just holding the phone but not saying anything.

"It's so nice to finally talk to you," she continues. Her face is rounder than Otabek's, but the high cheekbones are the same. Her Russian is only very slightly accented.

"It is?" Yuri grimaces a little. He becomes very aware of the fact he hasn't brushed his hair and is wearing an old training t-shirt. Great first impression. In the meanwhile Otabek's mother looks very put together; her hair is pulled back and she wears a white collared shirt and a brightly coloured shawl across her shoulders.

She smiles at his words. "I insisted on saying a few words to you so don't blame Otabek, please," she says.

Yuri grunts, completely uncomfortable.

"He says he won't," Otabek translates and Yuri flips him off, then snatches his hand back down, realising it's in full view of the phone's camera.

"Fuck, sorry," he says and Otabek turns away, making a muffled snort that's clearly laughter held back. Yuri grimaces again. "Sorry," he repeats.

"It's all right," Otabek's mother says, although she is also holding back a smile. "Otabek has mentioned you tend to use colourful language. I'd love to meet you in person, Yuri, so I hope you'll visit soon."

"Okay, uh, Mrs... Altin," Yuri stammers a bit, realising he doesn't know her name.

"You can call me Aiza," she says smoothly. "Otabek also mentioned it's your six month anniversary." Her eyes flick to Otabek with a fond, but slightly put-out look. "Six months already and I barely knew a thing."

"Mom," Otabek sighs.

Yuri says nothing. He presses his lips together and is so tense he's almost shaking. How the fuck do you talk to mothers?

"Fine," she says and smiles again. "Congratulations on the six months. Yuri, you're a lovely young man and I'm sure my son is very lucky. Is that your cat?"

Yuri glances over at Potya and then pulls her into his lap again. "Yeah," he says. At least it's easy to talk about that. "Her name is Puma Tiger Scorpion."

"She's beautiful," Otabek's mother says and beams at him. She moves around a sunny room until there are three cats in the picture, two spotted ones and a black one. "These are my babies until my children provide me with actual grandchildren."

Otabek sighs again while Yuri leans in to look at the cats. "Are those Bengals?"

"Yes!" Otabek's mother says happily, appearing back on the screen. "Good eye, Yuri."

"Uh... Thanks." Yuri is bewildered by the warmth of her words. He pulls back and glances at Otabek who's watching him.

"All right, boys, I've got to get back to work," Otabek's mother says. "It was so nice finally talking to you, Yuri. Now bye bye, both of you."

Otabek gives his mother another thumbs-up, then ends the call.

Yuri chews on his teeth for a while after the call's ended. Potya wiggles out of his lap and goes to sniff at Otabek's toes. "It's not even our fucking six month anniversary," Yuri mutters, feeling his face heat up and turn red. His shoulders have risen to his ears with the knowledge that his objection is weak and ridiculous. It's more like seven months at this point.

"Close enough," Otabek says. "Want me to call my sisters, too? And my father?"

"Fuck off!" Yuri punches Otabek in the leg, then buries his face in his hands. "Fuck!" he repeats even louder. A seagull answers him with a scream from outside.

"You okay?" Otabek asks.

Yuri lowers his hands, running his nails down his own face, and gives Otabek a baleful stare. "What the fuck, Altin," he says. The heat from his cheeks lets him know he's still glowing red. "You can't just-"

Otabek is backlit against the light coming in from the open door so his face is even harder to read, but he's leaning in. "Yura," he interrupts. "I've wanted to tell my mother about you since last summer. Thanks for letting me do it."

The confession derails Yuri's disquiet. "Last summer? We weren't even-"

"I know," Otabek interrupts again. "But I wanted to tell her anyway. I wanted to say 'look at him, isn't he something?'" He touches Yuri's cheek briefly, but doesn't linger as if unsure whether he's allowed.

Yuri stares, no longer baleful, but astonished. "Beka, you cheesy fuck," he huffs, still red in the face, still flustered, but now for a different reason.

"Wow," Otabek says, deadpan, and gets up. "When are we leaving?"

"To go where?" Yuri leaps up off the floor and takes a step back. He's not ready to go see Otabek's family!

"The wedding?" Otabek reminds him calmly. "It's tonight, right?"

"Oh, fuck," Yuri says, having completely blanked on that with everything else. The realisation hits him like a wave. "Yeah." He glances at the time on his phone. "Yeah, we gotta go in a few hours. I'm taking a shower."

"Yura." Otabek stops him by catching the waist of his sweatpants. "Shower a little later, okay?"

When Yuri says nothing, Otabek pulls him close and kisses him. It's not hard to guess what Otabek wants. Yuri pushes him down on the chair and bends down to kiss him again, curtaining them both with his hair until Otabek reaches up into it, brushing it behind Yuri's ears. The faded pink is another reminder from Worlds, the colour having turned from hot pink to what it is now over months. Yuri had dyed his hair for his exhibition skate.

Yuri shifts forward, straddling Otabek's lap. He cradles Otabek's face between his hands and sucks on his tongue. There's never enough time to get completely satisfied when they're together. It's always cut short for one reason or another. And the times in between, when they're apart, fill up Yuri's phone, but not him.

They don't even bother getting off the chair while they get off. They don't even bother taking off their clothes, just push them aside to create enough space for hands.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm not drunk, I'm Russian!"

The open-air train station is mostly empty because it's just past 4am, and Yuri's loud words echo back at them from the metal canopies over the platforms. The only response is a flock of birds taking flight and scolding the humans with chirps. Then the absence of song fills the moment like water in a dam. It breaks only when Mila lifts a finger to her lips and loudly hushes everyone, then the trill of a sparrow follows it from a tree bending over the train platform.

"So dramatic," Mila laments and reaches out to pat Yuri’s shoulder. "And so drunk."

Yuri pushes her away and she stumbles into her boyfriend, not able to keep her balance on her high heels. "Go look in a mirror!" She holds her drink much better than Yuri does, but she's definitely not sober either.

She giggles until her mirth becomes a yawn and she rests her head on Gonta’s shoulder as they mount the platform towards St. Petersburg. They're outside of the city proper, in a village that's being slowly swallowed by the urban sprawl; and like so many other small towns around St. Petersburg, home to old palaces and imperial residences. It's early July and everything is lush and green and the sun is rising, and it's still quiet because of the early hour, except for the birds. A haze of moisture hangs in the air, smelling faintly of wood fires.

The morning is cool but Yuri feels warm enough to have abandoned his hoodie in favour of his button-up, which is the only concession he's made in regards to wedding dress code. He's paired it with skinny jeans and his favourite leopard print trainers. He’s also starving. And on the downswing of drunkenness, starting to feel worse rather than better.

Mila stops to remove her high heels. Her sparkly dress catches the sunlight like dew on the flowers across the train tracks. It blinds Yuri so he squeezes his eyes shut. After a few steps he feels Otabek catch his arm.

"What are you doing?" Otabek says. "You almost walked off the edge."

Yuri opens his eyes and finds himself perilously close to the edge of the platform. Mila and Gonta are ahead of them, but they've stepped into the shadow of the platform canopy and Mila's dress is no longer as dazzling. The combination of having been up all night and being drunk makes the morning feel unreal, like everything is happening at a distance, colourful and kaleidoscopic.

"It was just really bright so I closed my eyes," Yuri says. He doesn't even slur his words much, but Otabek pulls him away from the edge with a frown. Or perhaps he's just squinting against the sunlight.

"Don't do that while walking," Otabek says and shakes his head. "Especially when you're drunk."

"I'm not-" Yuri starts, then grunts. He's a little bit drunk. "Okay, fine."

"Hey, drunk baby," Mila calls out from ahead as if to reinforce the fact that Yuri is, indeed, under the influence. Gonta has sat down on one of the benches and is holding her heels while she waves at Yuri. "If you’re going to hurl, do it before we get on the train."

"I don’t-" Yuri bristles immediately, but now that it’s mentioned, he does feel nauseated, and instead of finishing his objection just scowls. He turns to Otabek, who's standing a small distance away, shading his eyes and looking up at something. "I can't talk to her."

"Is it because she’s right?" Otabek asks, not lowering his gaze.

Yuri doesn’t bother answering, but stands next to Otabek and looks up, too, but there’s nothing there, just the blue sky. It’s bright and luminous and hurts Yuri’s eyes. He closes his eyes again, which should be fine because he’s standing still, and the light that comes through his eyelids is red, but still radiant. The trees around the train station rustle softly in a negligent breath of wind.

It’s the first wedding Yuri’s been to. Is it fitting or annoying that it was Viktor and Katsuki? He can’t escape them. He’s going to Japan with them, for fuck’s sake, to live in Katsuki’s old room of all places. It’s not quite the dramatic break-away he’s looked forward to, but it’s enough. He’s already been training with them for the last three months, re-learning how to deal with Viktor on a day-to-day basis.

 _"_ _Bad decisions make good stories_ ," Christophe had told Yuri at the wedding reception garden party and put his arm around him. _"I could be your bad decision tonight."_ Yuri had given him an instant and impolite no, but the words remained. Is he going to collect a lot of good stories or a lot of gold medals from the next season?

"Hey, you okay?" Otabek’s voice dispels the memory and Yuri blinks his eyes open again. He winces at the brightness.

"Yeah," he grunts and nods.

"The train should be here in about 15 minutes," Otabek continues and points at the display hanging off the canopy that shows the time until the next train passes by. So that’s what he’d been looking at.

It's chilly in the shadow of the canopy and Yuri pulls his hoodie on, finding his sunglasses in the process, which he also puts on. A little distance away Mila's laid down on the bench with her head in Gonta's lap and his jacket over her. Gonta has his eyes closed, too, and is leaning back.

"Hey, Beka," Yuri says, realising they're basically alone on the platform. At least there's no one watching right now.

"Yeah?" Otabek looks at him, hands in the pockets of his trousers. He's gone a slightly more formal route than Yuri and is basically in a suit, just with the button-up and tie exchanged for a clingy t-shirt.

"Help me with this." Yuri points at the Dutch braid on his head. "It's too tight."

Otabek takes Yuri by the shoulders and turns him around to get at the offending braid. He unravels it gently, without saying a word, and runs his fingers through Yuri's hair to make sure it doesn't tangle. A wave of weariness overcomes Yuri and his knees go soft, almost buckling out from under him. Otabek catches him by the arm again before he folds to the ground and drags him to a bench.

"Probably best if you sit," Otabek advises. On the next bench over Mila snores gently.

Yuri zips up his hoodie and stuffs his hair into the hood before pulling it on and finally shoves his hands into its pockets. Otabek looks around the train station before sitting down, as well. Yuri slumps against him and closes his eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"For what?"

"For getting drunk."

Otabek exhales sharply through his nose, almost like a laugh, and curls his arm around Yuri's shoulders. "That's okay. I've seen you worse."

"Oh," Yuri murmurs and noses into Otabek's shoulder. "Yeah. Worlds."

"Yeah. Worlds," Otabek repeats. "You threw up and went to sleep in the bathroom after the banquet."

"Don't remember."

"It was pretty gross."

"Hey, fuck you." Yuri squirms in protest, but can't even open his eyes. At least the nausea has abated and he’s just a little woozy and very sleepy. He settles down again and sighs. "Sorry."

This time Otabek gives him a little squeeze, but says nothing. There's no way he knows what Yuri's actually apologising for. Otabek had come away from the World Championships with the gold medal, and Yuri, continuing his underwhelming season, with the silver. Yuri had been happy, and not happy. And he's sorry he hadn't been able to be just happy.

There's a tinny announcement on the PA system, which Yuri can't understand despite it being in Russian. The speakers are shit. But it means the train's nearing the station. Yuri pulls his head up and notices there's other people on the platform now, not many, but a few. Otabek's arm is no longer around him and he's on his phone, scrolling through cat pictures. How the fuck does he still have battery life left? Yuri's phone had died hours ago, and he hadn’t been smart enough to bring his charger or an extra battery like Phichit.

"Shit," Yuri says. His mouth tastes like things he wants to forget. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Think so," Otabek says. "You snore when you drunk sleep."

"I do n- Whatever." Yuri lets it go and sits up, stretching a bit. He spots Mila and Gonta still asleep on their bench. "Can we just leave them?"

"Sure." Otabek says after giving Yuri a look. "They’re your friends."

"He’s not my friend," Yuri grimaces. Gonta gets on his nerves just by existing. He’s got thick black eyebrows, which are stupid, and skinny legs and absolutely too much free time even though he’s supposedly about to be accepted into a PhD program. But the train is already pulling into the station so Yuri locks up his disdain and goes to kick the bench Mila and Gonta are on hard enough to jar them awake. "Hey, get up. Train's here."

Mila sits up, blinking. Her updo's almost undone and most of her hair has fallen across her face. "Shit," she says, unknowingly echoing Yuri.

The train car they enter is empty except for one passed out gentleman. He’s filled the car with the smell of regurgitated vodka and is asleep across two seats. It’s the weekend, after all.

"He’s got great form." Gonta points at the man. "Probably won’t even have a sore neck when he wakes up."

It makes Mila snort with unladylike laughter and Yuri opens his mouth, but doesn't manage to say anything before Otabek pulls him down on a seat next to him. Mila and Gonta sit on the other side of the aisle with Mila smiling at Yuri.

"You know, I like you much better when Altin's around. You behave well and you smell nicer. You probably have to take a lot of showers," she says, her smile widening.

"Don't take your unsatisfying sex life out on me," Yuri replies. Otabek's put him on the window seat so Yuri has to lean past him to talk back at Mila.

But she just laughs, hanging over the arm of her seat. "Every time I think you've grown up you prove me wrong. I'm gonna miss you so much when you leave."

"I haven't left yet!" Yuri reaches past Otabek to glare at her. It’s like they want to have his funeral with him right there. "So shut up."

He draws back, chewing on his lip, and hears only a few murmurs from Mila and Gonta. He pulls one of his legs up on the seat and slouches down as the train starts moving again. He catches Otabek's eye.

"So how many times did Chris come on to you?" he says.

"Just twice," Otabek replies. Now that there's no bright sunlight Yuri can see the dark under Otabek's eyes and the way he slow-blinks, trying to stay awake. The warmth and steady rumble of the train doesn't help either of them in that sense.

"Yeah? When was the second time?" Yuri isn't surprised that Viktor had invited Christophe, but he had been a little bit surprised to see Chris arrive with a plus two, a woman and a man. And then Chris had proceeded to flirt with absolutely everyone despite that.

"While you were dancing with Viktor." Otabek's mouth crooks a little bit with amusement.

Yuri makes a gagging sound. "Don't remind me." His cheeks feel hot and he hopes its just the alcohol and not him blushing again. Even sunburn would be preferable. "What'd Chris say?"

"The same as before, just without the bit about having a threesome."

"Does he think everybody fucks around just 'cause he does?" Yuri would much rather talk about Chris than his waltz with Viktor. Everyone else had thought it sweet.

Otabek shrugs, the non-judgemental bastard. "He likes to flirt. There’s nothing wrong with that."

"I think he went way past flirting," Yuri grunts, then shrugs, too. "Whatever. Did you hear any of the stuff Katsuki told me?"

"No." Otabek displays the requisite amount of curiosity by eyeing Yuri, although then he reaches forwards and smoothes away Yuri's hair so he can see both of Yuri's eyes. "Apart from when he called you a handsome boy and tried to put flowers in your hair."

"Oh, yeah," Yuri says. He barely remembers it, but there'd been a lot of champagne. The real stuff and not just sparkly wine or apple cider. "But no, before that. Before he got drunk. Probably the reason why he got so drunk. He said they'd invited Viktor's mother but she refused to come. Or didn't even reply to the invitation. Something like that."

Otabek's eye twitches and Yuri decides it must be a wince of sympathy. "Viktor didn't seem bothered."

"He was pretty plastered, too."

"Is that a measure of his sadness?"

Yuri shrugs. "Dunno. Sadness, happiness, who knows with him. It all looks the same. Being drunk, too. I only noticed 'cause his breath was killing me when he made me dance with him."

"Explains all those cheek kisses he gave you."

"Ugh." Yuri squirms and rubs at his cheek.

The Gulf of Finland is briefly visible through the train window, the water's surface winking with a multitude of reflections from the sun. Yuri turns away from its brightness, curling up sideways on his seat so he can look at Otabek instead. Otabek has slid down in his seat. He looks thoughtful. Or maybe just tired.

"I'd be unhappy if my mother didn't come to my wedding," he says.

"Yeah? Who're you gonna marry?" Yuri folds his arms around his knees.

Otabek smiles at him, but doesn't respond.

"D'you think his mother didn't come 'cause he married a man? I mean, sort of. Katsuki's sort of a man and they're sort of married in Japan," Yuri says then, and then wonders why Otabek looks at him the way he does. The smile is replaced by a strange softness. Is he falling asleep?

"What do you think?" Otabek says quietly.

"I asked you first," Yuri protests, but then neither of them speak, just look at each other. Even Yuri, a child of the new millennium, knows the reality of his home country. There's no security for non-conforming people and the public opinion falls heavily on the negative side.

"Fuck," he says then. It's not possible to sink deeper into his seat, but he tries. "I think it's a super shitty thing for a mother to do. And I should know, I have a fucking shitty mother."

Otabek reaches over and gently pats one of Yuri's feet. Even though he keeps quiet he manages to impart a sense of comfort with his touch. It doesn't quell the swell of unease Yuri feels, but it's nice, nonetheless.

-

Their group of four separates into two in St. Petersburg. Mila, tired and drunk, hugs Yuri for a long time, wetting his hoodie with tears and running makeup.

"I can't believe you're leaving," she sniffles.

"Not this again," Yuri groans and pats her back. "It's still days away." He's aware that his touch probably has no comfort to offer, not the same way as Otabek's does.

"Oh, right." Mila remembers and pulls away, wiping her eyes. "Then let's go on a real double date since you've got Altin here."

"What is your obsession with double dates?" Yuri sighs. He’s too tired to argue. The buzz of alcohol is gone and what’s left behind is the bone-crunching weariness of having danced all night.

"Didn't hear you say no." Mila even smiles and then hugs Yuri again. "Okay, go on home. You need your sleep." She then pushes him away and takes Gonta's hand.

"Yeah, some of us didn't snore the whole way here on the train," Yuri mutters, but gives her a little wave. He does feel like he could fall asleep right there on his feet. As such the rest of the way home is a haze, a task performed under automation.

At home Yuri picks up his cat and barely makes it to his bed. He stirs only when he realises Otabek has undressed and is heading to the bathroom. So Yuri, grimacing at the idea of not brushing his teeth while Otabek does, crawls after him, shedding clothes like a tree in autumn.

"I hate you," he growls as he climbs to the sink to get his toothbrush.

Otabek, toothpaste dripping from the corner of his mouth, makes a noise, not even a word. His eyes are glassy, but he goes through the motions, and Yuri follows suit. He can’t not brush his teeth if Otabek does.

They lie far apart on the bed, too hot and too tired to endure the sensation of touch. Even Potya only curls up near, not on Yuri. After being awake half as long as usual it’s even more of a chore to fall asleep than usually, and when Yuri does finally sleep, it’s restless and doesn’t provide much ease.

-

Their breakfast is eaten late again. Yuri is folded half on his chair and half on the table as he chews through bread and pickle; Otabek sits staring into the distance with an undrunk cup of tea held between his hands. The balcony door is closed this morning and Potya is resting just across the room on the back of the sofa. It’s quiet, but Yuri doesn’t have much of a sense of calm.

He finishes his sandwich stubbornly, trusting that the sodium in the pickle along with the caffeine in his tea will fix his headache. He's used to eating without appetite and without paying further attention to his food than knowing it's necessary fuel.

His phone dings and he drags his head up to see the notification. It's Mila, asking when they should have their double date. Yuri pushes the phone away again and rests his cheek on the cool surface of the table.

"Do you really wanna go on a double date with Mila and _Gonta_?" he asks. It’s a cop-out to make it Otabek’s problem, but Yuri doesn’t care.

"No," Otabek replies with as much energy, which is very little. Otabek does very badly if he doesn't get enough sleep.

"Thank fuck," Yuri says.

"But you should go out with her," Otabek continues. "If she's important to you."

Yuri picks up his head again and leans his chin on his hand to see his spaced-out and newly minted boyfriend. "I know," he mutters. "But it's not like I'm moving to Japan forever."

"I get her. It’s not easy to watch you go." Otabek looks into his cup and swills the liquid around.

"Aren't you used to it by now?" Yuri asks, and maybe his tone of voice is too harsh or his question is to blunt because Otabek looks at him with tired eyes. "I mean," Yuri starts again to try and explain it. "Your ex. Wasn't it the same?"

Otabek lands his chair on all four legs. "No," he says. He abandons his tea and runs his hands through his droopy hair. "Not really. None of my exes travelled as much as you do. And all of them lived where I did at the time. So I got to see them when I wanted."

"Well, tough fucking luck." Yuri sits up, crossing his legs under himself on the chair. There's an abrasion on his instep which he prods at while staring at Otabek. When has Yuri ever been able to see the people he wants to see when he wants?

Otabek nods, either in agreement or in acknowledgement. "Still want me to come to Moscow with you?"

"Yes?" Yuri scowls, but it's more of an inquisitive grimace because at no point has he said anything about _not_ wanting him there anymore. "You don't have to stay the whole time, if you don't want."

"No, I'm okay," Otabek says. He shifts, looks Yuri in the one visible eye, and changes the composition of his expression so he looks less tired and more happy. "I wasn't sure after last night. Just let me know how to play it, friend or boyfriend."

"Yeah." Yuri takes a breath and looks past Otabek. The weather's decent. Windy, a little cloudy, but sporadically sunny. Not interesting enough to keep Yuri's attention. "When did you tell your parents?"

Poking at the sore spot on his foot distracts him from the apprehension he has regarding the subject. Needing to have that conversation with his grandfather weighs on him. Everything’s been good so far, why would he risk it?

"When I was 16." Otabek says and Yuri starts, having almost forgotten he’d asked a question. Otabek gets up, rolling his shoulders, and goes to open the balcony door. Maybe he saw Yuri looking towards it.

"How'd they take it?" Yuri presses his thumb against the bruise. The physical pain is easier to handle than the mental tension.

"Mom was disappointed." Otabek glances at Yuri over his shoulder with a shadow of a smile while he braces the door open. There's a gust of wind that throws the curtains around and Potya sits up to look, eyes wide. "She's always wanted a lot of grandkids and she thought I was telling her that wasn't going to happen with me."

Yuri snorts, brushing his hair behind his ears because the wind's got a hold of it too. "You have three sisters! One of them can pop out your share."

Otabek exhales sharply in laughter. "That sounds so wrong."

"But I'm right," Yuri insists.

"Yeah, you are," Otabek admits. "She's okay with it now. Got all those cats. And, you know, it isn’t set it stone that I won’t have kids of my own."

"Oh, yeah?" Yuri challenges. "Who’re you gonna have those kids with? Is it the same person you’re gonna marry?"

"Well, I hope so," Otabek says, trying to stay serious. "It’d be awkward to marry one person and then have children with another."

"Go fuck yourself," Yuri says and grabs his sore foot harder. "Neither of those people is going to be me." Is Otabek straight-up telling him their relationship is some sort of a placeholder for a better future relationship with someone else? Someone who’s into kids and marrying?

"That’s okay." Otabek looks over at Yuri. His eyes are very dark and soft in the light of the cloudy day. "I won’t need those things if you’ll stick around."

Yuri is the first one to drop his gaze. There’s only so much he can take when Otabek gets maudlin. "What about your father?" he asks. Suddenly talking about coming out is more bearable than talking about any future they might or might not have.

Otabek doesn't answer immediately. He looks out over the city from the balcony doorway and the wind pulls up his undercut more like a mohawk. "He was unhappy."

"How unhappy?" Yuri can't see Otabek's face to make sure, but it can't be a good memory.

"He didn't talk to me for a while." Otabek runs his hands through his hair again, then turns towards Yuri. The wind pushes his loose t-shirt against his body, which arrests Yuri's attention.

"What?" Yuri says and ducks his head again. "How long?"

"About a month."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"No, I guess it wasn't too bad," he agrees. "I think it was mostly because of religion."

Yuri, who has only a very vague relationship with religion through Eastern Orthodox Christmas traditions, frowns. "What's that got to do with it?"

"We're Muslim, so-"

"You're Muslim?" Yuri interrupts. "What the fuck, Altin?" It isn't a protest against the religion, but the fact that, once again, Yuri didn't know.

"My father is," Otabek says. "I was raised as one, but I don't practise."

"Oh," Yuri says and wonders if he should've guessed it from something. Religious considerations have never really entered his sphere of existence. "So what does it mean? What'd your father say?"

"He told me that whatever I chose he'd learn to live with."

"And that's it?"

"Yep. Never spoke of it again."

Whatever Otabek had felt when it had happened and whatever he'd felt now talking about it are gone. He's placid again as he looks at Yuri, just the wind gently combing through his hair. He paints such a perfect picture in his worn shirt and unevenly rolled-up sweatpants that Yuri's mouth goes dry despite the topic of their conversation. Maybe agitation knows agitation and the stress of the subject translates easily to other types of emotional arousal.

"Hey," Otabek says and Yuri starts, shooting up from his chair.

"I need to run," he says. He hasn't exercised for three whole days, it's too much. "Weather's good," he adds as though he needs to justify it. But the weather _is_ good for running, not hot and cloudless like the day before.

"Open invitation?" Otabek asks.

"Yeah." Yuri nods. But Otabek stops him, like the day before, by reaching up and catching onto the side of his clothes.

"Hey," Otabek repeats. "Do you know who your father is?"

"Huh?" Yuri says, not even understanding the question at first. Otabek waits patiently as Yuri first stares at him, then scowls. "No. I don't." As if he needs the knowledge that he has another absent, useless parent.

"Okay. Just curious." Otabek takes Yuri's hand this time, pressing his thumb into the palm of it and rubs gently.

That, if anything, is an open invitation. Yuri had learned two things at the previous World Championships: how to be less of a sore loser and how the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet are sensitive to touch. And Otabek knows the latter, having been the discoverer of this fact.

But Yuri isn’t in the mood. There’s way too much going on in his head. "We’re going to _run_ ," he reminds Otabek. "Do you wanna do that with your legs giving out every step?"

Otabek nods and lets go. "You’re right."

It isn’t the reason and they both know it, but it’s good enough an excuse.


	3. Chapter 3

A day before Yuri intends to leave for Moscow—and straight to Japan from there—he meets up with Mila. Not for a double date with anyone, but just the two of them. They’ve not had as much time to spend together as before when they were still both coached by Yakov. Now, with his departure so close, Yuri realises he’s going to miss her.

They walk around St. Petersburg’s many river embankments and bridges and talk about the move. Yuri’s packed up the things he's taking to Japan or to his grandfather's, but he's leaving behind all the furniture and the whole apartment. There's no point in paying the rent while he's not even in the country. So his trophies and Potya are moving to Moscow for the time being.

"I wanted to take her," he explains to Mila as they get sodas to go from their favourite shop. "But the quarantine time for pets to get into Japan is like six fucking months."

The wind outside is temperamental, but it's only a brief relief from the concentrated July heat and humidity. The gusting air picks up Yuri's hair and tosses the long tail around his head as they step out of the shop. They're nowhere near Nevsky Prospekt or the many tourist attractions of St. Petersburg, but even then there are tourists around.

"So you're leaving tomorrow?" Mila asks after the wind dies down and Yuri's hair is under control. Her shorter curls are merely tossed around by the breeze into a charming mess.

"Yeah." Yuri looks up at her, and even though her eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses he can see the wistful look. "Don't give me that."

"What?" She sips her drink. "I was just thinking it's been weird training without you."

"Yeah, well," Yuri mutters. "Get used to it." He doesn't deny it because it's true. Even though his migration from Yakov to Viktor has been completed in St. Petersburg, it has been strange sharing the ice with Katsuki instead of Mila. And he has no better answer to either her or Otabek than to get used to seeing less of him. Skating comes first.

It's cooler on the smaller streets because they often funnel the wind from the river delta along them, and because the buildings block the sun. They walk slowly and without making conversation for a good while. Yuri's mind travels to the rink as it so often does when he's not occupied with something else. It's like he can feel the chilly glow of the ice radiating from below.

"I forgot how good Viktor is," he says then. They've come to one of the bridges connecting the many islands of the delta. He's glad his sunglasses dull the sparkle of the sun on the sluggish waves.

"I seem to remember him winning a lot," Mila replies.

"Whatever." Mila wants to misunderstand on purpose so Yuri ignores her. "He skates with us every time. Does the warm-up, does the choreographies like he's going to perform them himself. And sometimes I forget what I'm supposed to do because I'm looking at him and he's so good," Yuri confesses, staring across the water as they traverse one of the bridges.

"Oof," Mila says. "Is that straight-up hero worship or what?"

"I don't fucking know," Yuri says into his bottle of Coke. It's embarrassing, that's what it is. "He's so good I'm not sure I can ever match it," Yuri makes his second confession and then drinks a mouthful to wash the words away.

Mila stops him by catching his arm. "Hey," she says. "Do you think he would've wanted to coach you if you couldn't?"

"He's coaching Katsuki and he can't," Yuri argues. "I mean, Katsuki’s good, but he’s not _as_ good."

"Yeah, but the situation there is a little bit different, right?" Mila insists. "Unless you're in some threesome thing with them now."

"Fuck off!" Yuri pulls away from her. Even the thought of something like that makes him cringe. Then he faces Mila, grasping her arm instead. "Katsuki told me at the wedding that I match with Viktor's skating much better than he does, that it's why Viktor wants to coach me." He speaks urgently, having been holding onto the words for almost a week now. He hasn't shared them with Otabek. "I don’t know what it means."

"Is that bad?" Mila asks, trying to understand. "It sounds like they both think you're really good."

"I guess." Yuri lets go of her and starts walking again. He hadn’t expected her to have an answer, but it looks like he’ll have to ask Katsuki one day. It's windy on the bridge, but he doesn't feel the cold of it, just that it grabs at his hair and clothes like the centrifugal pull of a spin. "I think Japan's gonna be worth it," he adds, issuing the words like a challenge to Mila.

She still eyes him with concerned curiosity. "Yeah?"

" _Yeah_ ," Yuri asserts. They have, maybe unintentionally, walked towards the Jubileyny Sports Centre where their rink is and seeing the familiar buildings reminds Yuri he won't be skating there for a while. And by extension that he won't be seeing his cat, or his grandather, or Mila, or Otabek for a while.

"Shit," he says, thoughts converging on Otabek. "I really like him."

"Viktor?" Mila questions, taken aback by Yuri's sudden change of subject.

"Fuck no. Otabek!" Yuri gives her a sharp glance.

"Oh? Yeah, it'd be a little weird if you didn't like him," Mila replies, nodding. "He _is_ pretty hot."

"Get off. I mean," Yuri starts, then stops. What does he mean? "Yeah, okay, he's hot, but that's not what I’m saying. He's-" Yuri holds out his hand, grasping at the air as though trying to catch a handful of wind or light in an attempt to explain. "He's so cool and I just like him!" He goes sullenly quiet after his outburst and drinks his Coke in grim silence. How could he explain a feeling he can’t even name himself?

Mila holds back a smile, but her amusement escapes in a little snort of laughter instead. "So he's hot _and_ cool? Okay, Plisetsky." Yuri glares at her, but she doesn't mind and throws her arm across his shoulders and pulls him closer. "I get it. I like Gonta, too." She smiles. They're outside the Jubileyny rink, on the spot where they've been having lunch together whenever the weather and their schedules permit. A little less since Yuri had begun transitioning under Viktor's wing after Worlds.

"Ugh, _Gonta_ ," Yuri mutters.

"Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it." Mila flaps her hand. "But he’s nice and clever, and he makes me laugh. He makes me _happy_." She looks up at the sky. Her sunglasses are holding her hair back although it's being blown about by an indecisive wind.

"He’s just so weak," Yuri argues, but he watches Mila while speaking. Her are eyes unfocused and scanning the clouds. She looks peaceful.

She laughs. "Weak? What does that even mean?"

"You can squat more than he can." And Yuri means literally. He’d seen Mila race around the wedding grounds with Gonta on her back. It’d been ridiculous. And a bit funny.

"Sure, but I can also squat more than _you_ can." Mila bumps him with her shoulder. "Does that make you weak, too?"

"Not as weak as him," Yuri says although he’s on the losing side with this.

"So that’s your objection to Gonta? He’s not physically as fit as I am?" Mila rolls her eyes.

"My boyfriend is already world famous," Yuri comes up with his last objection, but it just makes Mila burst out laughing.

She holds up her hand when Yuri takes a breath to make an incensed comment. "Your boyfriend? You took that step, huh?"

"I, uh... Yeah, I guess," Yuri admits, his train of thought having been derailed. "He's coming with me to Moscow before I fly to Japan."

"Oh, you _really_ like him." Mila grins.

"I _just_ said that."

"Yeah, okay," she laughs again.

"Fine," Yuri says. "But I don’t want you to come crying to me when Gonta dumps you for being stronger than him."

"Ha!" Mila grins and her eyes take on their familiar sparkle. "You'll be the _first_ I'll come crying to!" She tosses her hair a little and chortles with laughter as she throws her arm across Yuri's shoulders and draws him in again. "Hey, Yura," she says. "I'm gonna miss you so much."

"Oh my god, the internet exists," Yuri objects. "And it's not like I'm staying there forever."

"I know, it's just not the same without you here."

"You're worse than Beka."

"Speaking of, getting that Kazakh dick has made you so much nicer. What’s he putting into you?" Mila ignores Yuri’s elbow flail and her hold around his shoulders becomes more of a headlock.

"Can you _not_!" Yuri howls. That topic of discussion is definitely off limits, even to her.

She lets him go and views him with a smirk, pulling her sunglasses over her eyes. "Don’t be so scandalised. As if you aren’t getting some of that every moment you can." But then she relents and stands up, holding out her hand to him. "Hey, let's go shopping. It'll be fun to bring your new Japanese family something from Russia. And you know, show them you remember them from before."

"Shit," Yuri says and fights away his annoyance because he's struck by her thoughtfulness. "That's a good idea." He knows he's going to be staying with Katsuki's family, at least at first, and they had put him up the previous time, too. _And_ they had been really nice, and taught him about pork cutlet bowls. There's a world of things Yuri doesn't even know he should be thinking of, like bringing gifts to a host family.

So that's what friends are for.

-

"Hey, fuckface."

"Coach Fuckface to you." Viktor's expression is an impenetrable smile at first, but then it relaxes. "To what do I owe this pleasant interruption of my already pleasant evening?"

"Katsuki told me about your mother," Yuri says hastily, tying the words together. He's on the sofa in his little living-kitchen area, sitting in the dimness of the late summer evening. Otabek is in the shower, and it's the only time when Yuri has the privacy to make this kind of call.

"Oh?" Viktor's face doesn't waver, but his eyes shutter and the perspective of the video feed changes because he lowers his phone. He looks more sinister that way.

Yuri scowls, seeing it's not something Viktor wants to discuss. "Yeah. So. Why didn't she come to the party?"

Viktor looks away from the camera, then back. "Don't worry about it, kitten. I just have a horrible mother."

"I'm not worried!" Yuri protests, shoulders climbing up towards his ears with mounting emotion. He _is_ worried, just not about that. "Ugh, _Viktor_ ," he groans, thumb hovering over the end call button.

"What is it?" Viktor asks although it's no longer pleasant.

This is literally the last person Yuri ever thought he'd be asking for personal advice, however circumspectly. "I wanna tell my Granpa about Otabek," he says quickly, hoping it'll be less embarrassing if he says it quickly.

Viktor tilts his head. "Why?" he asks.

"What do you mean why? Because he's my Granpa!"

Viktor looks over his shoulder again, but the place around him is dark and quiet. "Why?" he repeats. "Why tell him if you think he'll not take it well?"

Yuri stares at him through his phone, in disbelief.

"If you don't tell him, everything will just go on like it's now. You lose nothing," Viktor continues. "Family can go so wrong. I should know."

"So it _is_ the reason why your mother wasn't there."

Viktor shifts, the picture going out of focus briefly. When it comes back Viktor is reclining on his side, leaning his head on his hand. "Don't get ahead of yourself," he warns Yuri. "It's part of it, but not all of it."

"... _And_?" Yuri prompts impatiently. Viktor smiles, but it's clearly calculating and meant to buy time. Yuri isn't fooled by Viktor's seemingly mild manners, he can see right through them.

"What do I get in exchange if I tell you?" Viktor finally says, and Yuri heats up with the triumphant knowledge that he's right.

"Fuck you," Yuri snorts.

"You're after my personal life, why shouldn't I expect something in return for revealing private matters?" Viktor reasons. "I know!" he continues and smiles wider, eyes crinkling up. "I want you to stop being mean to Yuuri."

"I haven't even been mean to him!" Yuri protests, feeling the triumph fade into unfairness. Fucking Viktor.

Viktor clicks his tongue in reprimand. "Just yesterday he asked me why you don't like him and I couldn't give him an answer."

"How is that my problem?" Yuri scowls. "Besides," he continues. "I like him just fine! He's got the spine of a wet towel, but he's a decent person and a good skater. Don't know what he sees in _you_." The last is added in a rebellious mumble.

"Yuri, just promise me this," Viktor says and his face is soft again. "And I'll tell you what you want."

"Ugh, only you would bargain for something like this," Yuri mutters, then faces Viktor in the phone. "Fine. I promise. I'll be nice to Yuuri." It's not something that's going to be difficult anyway. Katsuki really isn't too bad.

"Thank you, kitten." Viktor smiles. It's supposed to be sincere, but Yuri sees right through it. "What did you want to know?"

Yuri hears the shower turn off, but his eyes don't leave his phone screen and Viktor behind it. "Your mother. What happened?" Otabek comes out of the bathroom in a towel, but Yuri shakes his head at him. Otabek shrugs and goes into the bedroom.

Viktor shifts again, sitting up and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "My mother," he muses, tapping a finger against his lips as he thinks. "I suppose you could say she's a bitter and avaricious woman. She feels entitled to my income and stopped talking to me almost ten years ago. I believe she doesn't care that I married a man, just that I married _someone_ whom she can't manipulate. Someone I won’t let her manipulate."

Ding-ding, thinks Yuri. So Viktor's mother must be the reason why he's an emotionally manipulative mess, too. "Which part of this is supposed to help me?"

"Help you?" Viktor feigns ignorance. "Whoever said anything about this being for your benefit? I thought you just wanted the story."

Yuri extends his middle finger at Viktor. "Why'd she stop talking to you?" It’s the thing he fears the most that could happen with his grandfather.

"I told her she was not welcome to my money after she stole a decent sum of it, by gaining access to my bank account through, yes, manipulation of some poor, weak-willed bank employee."

"That's not the same as me telling my Granpa I'm gay!" Yuri says. He's too loud and Otabek appears in the doorway to the bedroom, silhouetted against the light. Yuri shakes his head at him again and he disappears back into the bedroom.

"Once again, I don't understand why you thought it would be," Viktor says smoothly. "But I do stand by what I said originally. You telling him can go very wrong. It's a consequence you have to take seriously." He pauses and leans back. "Think of it this way. You want to do all the jumps in the second part of your program, yes? The consequence of that is you're more tired and more likely to make a mistake, but you take that consequence and accept it for what it is, and do the jumps in the second part anyway."

Yuri stares at Viktor, wordless.

"Your grandfather may not react well. So why tell him? If you can answer that question, you'll be ready for the consequences." Viktor pauses. For effect as far as Yuri knows. "You do jumps in the second part because you want more points, right? That’s why. That’s a good reason. Find a good reason."

"Fuck," Yuri says. It makes sense. How the fuck does Viktor make sense? When the fuck did Viktor start making sense? And when the fuck did he decide it's okay to trust Viktor?

"Now, next time we meet, please call Yuuri, well, Yuuri. Not Katsuki and definitely not Katsudon," Viktor advises, either ignorant of Yuri’s inner battle or uncaring of it. Probably the latter. "You two having basically the same name is so efficient," Viktor continues, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

"For fuck’s sake," Yuri groans. "This conversation is over. Thanks. Bye," he says shortly. He needs to digest all of this and he can’t do it with Viktor staring at him. Especially after that last comment about their names.

"Any time. Goodnight, Yuri." Viktor isn't put off by Yuri's shortness and gives him a little wave before Yuri ends the call.

He stares at the black screen of his phone until Otabek comes out again, this time with Potya. Neither of them speaks, but Potya chirps gently as she leads Otabek to her food bowl. Otabek obediently measures her a dollop of wet food, then looks over at Yuri, but Yuri can only shake his head again. Otabek nods and goes back into the bedroom yet again.

After Potya is done eating she hops on the sofa with Yuri and curls up next to him. Yuri pets her absently, then scoops her up and carries her to the bedroom. Otabek's sitting in the middle of the bed, headphones on and doing something on his laptop that includes a lot of sliders on the screen.

Yuri puts the cat on the bed and climbs in after her. Otabek moves one of his headphones away and looks at him quizzically, but says and asks nothing. It's up to Yuri to speak, if he wants to.

"How the fuck," Yuri eventually huffs, "are Katsuki and Viktor an actual couple?"

"Fruitful conversation with Viktor, then?" Otabek says and pulls his headphones down around his neck. He loves the kind that envelop the whole ear instead of little earbuds.

"Yeah, I guess." Yuri picks at the blanket. The bed needs to be stripped, too, before they leave tomorrow. Potya becomes interested in the moving fabric and tilts her face and ears down to follow it.

"Hm," Otabek makes this soft noise. He closes his laptop and unplugs the earphones, then takes them off. His silence prompts Yuri to speak.

"Why'd you tell your parents?" he asks.

"About?" Otabek rolls the wire of his headphones neatly around them.

"Being bi. You could've just… Not said anything." Yuri shrugs. "It could've been bad."

Otabek moves his laptop and headphones aside. "They've always supported me. I had no reason to think it'd go badly."

Was it that simple? Just trust people? Yuri stares at Otabek, mouth bending into a scowl. "You're such a goody-two-shoes, Altin!"

Otabek leans forward and lifts his arm to invite Yuri into a hug or a kiss. What’s he doing? It's not the response Yuri expects, but he won't push Otabek away, either. At least not until Otabek uses the opportunity to pinch one of Yuri's nipples instead.

"Ow!" Yuri protests and smacks Otabek on the shoulder. "You _fuck,_ " he laughs. "That hurt!"

"Yeah, but now it’s over," Otabek says and Yuri goes to smack him again, but Otabek brings up a pillow to deflect his hand.

"Hey!" Yuri protests again and punches the pillow. "Don’t try to give me life lessons!"

"Okay," Otabek says with calm that belies his forward momentum as he bears Yuri down on the bed with his slightly bigger frame. "But it’s not like you can stop me."

"Fuck right off," Yuri says, muffled by the pillow caught between them.

"You called _Viktor_ for help," Otabek says. "Do you really think telling your grandfather is going to be _worse_?"

Yuri stops wriggling and stares up at Otabek. "Shit," he says. Fucking Otabek, seriously. Where the fuck does he get all his cool and rational sense-making bullshit? "You’re right," Yuri mutters, defeated.

Otabek nods and sits up, placing the pillow aside. He holds out his hand to help Yuri up, but changes trajectory at the last moment and pinches Yuri’s other nipple. "That’s for calling me a goody-two-shoes."

" _You FUCK_!" Yuri howls and tackles him to the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected because of massive rewrites.

Viktor stares back at Yuri from the walls of his room. Yuri has lived almost as long in St. Petersburg as he ever lived in Moscow, but he still considers Moscow and his grandfather's house his home. And at home his room is wall-papered with posters of Viktor from nearly ten years ago.

The pictures have been up there for so long that Yuri doesn't even see them anymore. At least, not until Otabek had walked into the room upon their arrival, stopped in the doorway and said, "Wow."

But Viktor looking down from the walls is part of being home.

Yuri sits up on the mattress laid on the floor where he's sleeping. Otabek is still asleep on the actual bed, which is too small for two people. And anyway, Yuri hasn't told his grandfather yet.

He rests his arms on the edge of the bed and watches Otabek sleep. Otabek has the exact same expression when asleep as when awake and Yuri finds it hilarious. Mila once asked him—after they had gone through the selfies Otabek had sent Yuri—if he doesn't think Otabek expressionless and hard to read. But Yuri thinks Otabek is neither of those things.

"Hey," Yuri whispers and touches Otabek's nose. "I gotta do chores today. The garden needs weeding and Granpa told me the roof's leaking so I'm gonna take a look at that."

Otabek's eyes open very slowly and only a sliver. "You know how to fix a roof?" he asks, voice low from sleep.

"No, but Granpa can't climb up there." Yuri touches his fingers against the side of Otabek's head, stroking the short-shaved hair. "I'll just Google it and you can help me."

"First the chickens and now this," Otabek murmurs and closes his eyes again.

"You're the weird one here," Yuri snorts. "Who hasn't seen a fucking chicken up close before?" His grandfather's garden houses a three-chicken coop and he'd taken Otabek to meet the chickens the day before, as soon as they'd arrived.

"I grew up in the city."

"And Moscow's what? A village?" Yuri leans closer and puts his forehead against Otabek's, then kisses him quickly.

At least it makes Otabek open his eyes again, but he pulls away and sits up. "Your grandfather is literally next door."

"Coward." Yuri gets up and throws on some old clothes. There's only two bedrooms in the tiny house and the walls between them are thin, but Yuri knows his grandfather's already been up for hours and is probably in the garden by now.

"Hey," Otabek protests. "I held a chicken for a whole minute."

Yuri snorts again, this time with laughter. "They're just _chickens_."

Otabek looks at him with a serious face. "They have crazy eyes," he whispers.

It makes Yuri cackle and he flips Otabek off before leaving the room. Potya and his grandfather's cat, Olga, are in the kitchen, both looking to be fed. He pets both cats and gives them a bit of food, then sets out two cups of tea and a _pirozhok_ each for him and Otabek. Granpa had made the pork cutlet ones.

When Otabek appears, looking nonchalantly hot as fuck, Yuri shoves the breakfast at him and stomps outside. Granpa is out there, sitting on a chair and reading the paper in the morning sun.

"Gonna fix the roof after I eat," Yuri declares. He needs something to take up his time other than ogling a sleepy and tousled Otabek.

"Thank you, Yurochka," Granpa says.

"And then I'm gonna do the weeding and watering," Yuri continues, mouth full. "And then you're gonna start _hiring_ someone to come do these things while I'm gone and I will _pay_." At least while he's been living in St. Petersburg it's been possible to visit his grandfather for a day when needed.

Granpa says nothing, but grumbles a little behind his paper.

"Great. So you'll do it?" Yuri questions just as Otabek joins them out in the garden.

Otabek's hair curls when it's humid, and Moscow has been both hot and humid. Yuri stares at him while he demolishes his breakfast. Funny how being denied something makes it seem that much more desirable.

"Do you need help with the roof?" Granpa asks and Yuri turns back to him, guilt making his skin feel tight.

"Not from you," Yuri says. "You have a bad back. Beka's gonna help me." The rickety plastic table muffles the sound of him slamming down his teacup on it. Granpa looks at him over the edge of his paper and Yuri resists the urge to flip him off, too. That’s not okay to do to his grandfather.

"All right, then." Granpa nods.

Yuri glances at Otabek again, but he's still eating so Yuri heads out to the garden shed by himself. He gets out the ladder and the toolbox and rolls up the legs of his old Adidas trakkies. When he carries the ladder back Otabek is being swarmed by the cats. He pets each and then comes to help Yuri in setting up the ladder.

"You're good with the cats, why are the chickens freaking you out?" Yuri asks. It'd been pretty funny to see Otabek being terrified of a chicken.

Otabek almost grimaces. "Cats are pets. Chickens are... domestic animals."

"Oh my God, Altin," Yuri sighs. "Guess you didn't spend a lot of time around _domestic animals_."

"No," Otabek admits as they return to the shed for the tool box. "Just horses."

A memory sparks up in Yuri's brain. Something from his admittedly haphazard schooling. "You eat them?" he asks. Horse meat is a traditional dish in Kazakhstan, right?

"No," Otabek says again. "We rode them. Ride them." He pauses long enough for Yuri to think he's done speaking.

"You have time to ride horses?" Yuri says. He barely has time to sleep with his training schedule, much less have a hobby or holidays.

"My parents own a few horses so I was around them as a kid," Otabek says at the same time. They both fall silent and Yuri waits a little longer this time before speaking to see if Otabek's done or not.

"You said you grew up in the _city_." And Otabek had made such a point out of it too. "So how'd you have horses?" Yuri mutters when it's clear Otabek isn't going to elaborate. He gets on the roof, then leans down for Otabek to hand him the tools.

"The horses live outside the city in a stable," Otabek explains as he follows Yuri up to the roof. He stays standing to look around. The house isn't tall, but neither are the neighbouring houses so there's a kind of a view to be seen.

Yuri has already sat down and pulled out his phone to check what he actually needs to do while fixing a roof. As enlightening as it is to talk about horses and Otabek’s childhood.

"Hey." Otabek nudges Yuri with his foot. "Another rooftop."

Yuri has to shade his eyes to look at Otabek. He's just a dark shape against the light and the sky and Yuri's stomach fills with unrequested butterflies. "So?" he says.

But Otabek gives no further explanation of his comment. He sits down next to Yuri and peers over his shoulder at the instructional tar cloth roofing video. Between the two of them and the power of Google they figure out how to fix the leak. After that's done, and with the garden mostly weeded and watered, and the chicken coop cleaned, Otabek and Yuri sit on the garden chairs with cold drinks and cats sunning themselves.

"So what the fuck’s up with the horses?" Yuri asks. He’s watching Granpa make the rounds in the garden, checking their handiwork.

"What do you mean?" Otabek says. He’s tilted his chair back against the wall of the house and has his eyes closed and face turned towards the sun.

"How many horses do you own?"

"I don’t own any. My parents own, like, ten or so."

"What the fuck?" Yuri mutters so Granpa doesn’t hear him swearing. "That’s a lot of horses!"

Otabek shrugs, unbothered. "Is it?"

"Yes!" Yuri shouts and Granpa turns to look at him at the back of the garden. Yuri gives him a wave to dismiss his concern and glares at Otabek. Owning horses—ten!—is not an ordinary thing, and it’s weird that Otabek treats it as such. But Granpa beckons Yuri to come look at the chicken coop’s torn mesh fence so he has to put the subject aside.

-

At night Yuri and his grandfather sit under the fixed roof and watch an old, impenetrable Russian film on the telly. Otabek has excused himself on account of not being Russian and not being able to stand the vast, slow, grief-ridden cinematography. Yuri doesn't care for it either, but he feels like a child again, sitting on the sofa with Granpa. Safe. So he stays.

There are a lot of silent panoramas of fields in the film and every time Yuri thinks he should say something. _Hey, Granpa, I'm fucking the young man in the other room. Just so you know._ It should be easy to say—although maybe not in those exact words—because he tells his grandfather everything.

"Hey," Yuri says when he can no longer stand his own silence. "Have you heard from her?"

Granpa shifts. "Yes," he says.

Yuri's stomach churns uncomfortably. "Oh yeah?"

"She is in Malta with someone." Granpa's words are short and his eyes don't leave the television screen, but Yuri's always been pretty good at reading small expressions and sees him bite his teeth together.

"Malta? What the f-" Yuri swallows the rest of his words. 'Someone' has always meant a man. Usually older, always rich. Guess his mother's living according to her own words, too. At least so far Yuri hasn't heard of any half-siblings. "When was that?"

Granpa is silent for a moment. "March, I reckon."

Yuri turns his attention to Potya who's on the sofa cushion next to him. He's leaning against his grandfather and Potya is leaning against him. It's comforting. His birthday is in March. Why hadn't she called _him_? Sent a text? Anything. At least his grandfather doesn’t try to justify or defend her actions this time.

"What'd she want?" Yuri asks.

"To ask if I was still receiving her mail."

Yuri snorts. That's pretty much along the lines of what he'd expected. He pulls Potya into his lap and hugs her and kisses her forehead until she squirms free to go wash herself. It's his fault for asking.

"Hey, Granpa," he starts again, to dispel the possibility he'll come out right now, in the worst possible way by being needlessly explicit. Granpa deserves better. "Am I doing the right thing?"

"Yurochka," Granpa says. He sounds severe, but it's not how he is. "You have always known what you want to do."

"I guess." Yuri prods at his feet. The abrasion has almost faded.

"And I have always supported you," Granpa continues.

"Yeah," Yuri sighs.

"So why are you worried?" Granpa has turned his head slightly to look at Yuri.

"Because everyone acts like they're planning my funeral just for going to Japan."

There is a silence filled with endless Russian sadness from the television. "Your actions and decisions affect them," Granpa says then.

"How? It’s my life," Yuri mutters.

"Yurochka," Granpa says.

"Yeah, I get it," Yuri makes a face at the telly. "I should be happy they care, right?"

Granpa says nothing but reaches over and pats Yuri on the shoulder, and then pulls a little on Yuri's earlobe like he used to when Yuri was younger and upset about something.

"Granpa!" Yuri huffs and pushes his hand away, but then falls against his grandfather's side. He used to fall asleep like this, cuddled under Granpa's arm. He smells like home. So what if his mother’s missed his last three birthdays? Granpa never does.

-

There's more chores every day, but Yuri doesn't mind them too much. He's used to repeating tasks while training. It's practically all he does, every day. Otabek tries to help, but he's honestly useless in the garden. He’s afraid of the chickens and he sucks at weeding.

But it's still nice having him there. And after a hot and humid day in the garden, with sunburn on his nose and shoulders, Yuri cradles Otabek's head in his lap in the shade of an apple tree. He combs through Otabek's hair with his fingers while idly scrolling through social media on his phone. Granpa is visiting a neighbour about some radishes to go with supper so it's just the two of them and the cats for the time being.

Then Otabek opens his mouth. "I didn't know you had practical skills," he says.

"Hey, fuck you," Yuri replies and looks past his phone down at Otabek. His eyes are closed. "I didn't know you _didn't_. You can land a quad lutz but not weed a garden?"

"Hey," Otabek repeats back at Yuri. "Skating and gardening aren't skills that overlap much."

"Yeah, gardening is easier," Yuri scoffs.

Otabek, who had only managed to skin his knees on the roof and get scratched by a chicken, shakes his head. "Skating is easier."

"You can stop helping me," Yuri mutters and, instead of combing through Otabek's hair, yanks on it a little. "I don't want to be the reason why you're invalided from the next season."

"It'd be impolite to not help."

"Oh my God," Yuri mutters and looks back at his phone. "You're the guest, Beka."

Otabek agrees by staying silent, or at least that's how Yuri interprets it. He's done with social media so he flips through his recent pictures, a pretty even 50-50 split between cats and Otabek, and dwells on some taken earlier in St. Petersburg.

Otabek isn't great at providing nudes so Yuri has to take care of that whenever they're together, but looking at them now makes him feel restless. Otabek lifts his hand and catches Yuri's, pulling it out of his hair.

"Too hard," Otabek remarks. He doesn't open his eyes.

"Sorry," Yuri mutters. Is it weird to be looking at pictures of Otabek when he's right there? He backs out of his thirst gallery and goes back to looking at pictures of cats. No point in torturing himself. And almost as soon as he does, there's a message from Mila.

 _'Gonta's moving in with me!_ 🌞', she writes.

 _'So he wants to get out of his stupid student housing,'_ Yuri types back after pulling his hand free from Otabek's.

 _'That too, but also I asked him so that works out,'_ Mila replies. _Just wanted to share._

 _'Don't you have other friends_ _to share with_ _?'_ Yuri scowls at the screen of his phone. _'Why do I have to suffer?'_

 _'I do_ _, but no one who's as fun to annoy as you. Say hello to everyone from me!_ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️'

Yuri decides not to respond. It's not bad news, but he feels frustrated anyway. "Beka," he says instead. "Why don't you ever send me nudes?"

Otabek opens his eyes slowly to look up at Yuri. "I have sent you some."

"Twice!" Yuri brandishes his phone at him as if to prove his point. "And only after I asked a million times."

Otabek can't deny that because it's a fact. He nods a little, but still doesn't offer to send more. He points at Yuri's phone. "Are you receiving competing offers?"

"What? No. Ugh, that was Mila." Yuri drops his phone on the grass and pushes Otabek away because it's getting too hot to be sitting that close to anyone. "But I don't wanna have to ask every time."

"You have plenty of nude pictures of me," Otabek says and sits up. He brushes grass blades off his sleeveless shirt; proof of Yuri's tireless gardening because he'd mowed the grassy bits of the yard.

Yuri can't deny that fact in turn. "Yeah, but I took all of those myself."

Otabek looks up at the leaves of the tree providing them shade, and Yuri watches the sun and moving shadows play across his face and bare shoulders. Yuri has already burned the skin of his face and most of his upper body while working in the garden or just sitting on the grass playing with Potya, or listening to music with Otabek. Otabek doesn't burn and has gained a beautiful bronze tan in seemingly just a few days, fuck him.

"It's not the same," Yuri says when Otabek remains quiet.

"I get it," Otabek says then.

"I just wanna look at you naked." Yuri picks at the grass. "You know, when you're not actually there." And sometimes when he is and can't be seen naked. Otabek says nothing again, which always makes Yuri feel like he has to keep talking. "Mila and Gonta are moving in together."

"Ah." Otabek nods as though it's a big revelation. "Japan," he says.

Yuri scowls a little and picks at the grass harder, then looks up to find Otabek watching him. "Fuck you. But yeah," he mutters. "They're moving in together, we're actually moving farther away. Or I am, anyway."

"I'm not worried," Otabek says and quickly touches Yuri's bare and grass-stained knee.

"Who said _I'm_ worried?" Yuri throws a handful of shredded grass at Otabek, but it just floats around harmlessly. A few pieces get stuck to Otabek's hair and shirt. His hair's less black in the sun, more dark brown, and it's swept to one side because there's no point in using styling products here.

"It was implied." Otabek is amused. The corner of his mouth twitches, but doesn't rise. The next handful of grass Yuri tries to send his way is blocked by Otabek grasping his hand and pulling him forward.

Yuri bumps into Otabek, mouth already open to release a few particular words, but they never get out. Otabek catches him around his shoulders and palms the back of his head and kisses him. It's hard and awkward and Yuri digs his fingers into Otabek's thigh and sucks on his tongue. When Otabek let's him go, Yuri isn't ready to stop and pulls away only when he needs more than a quick gasp of air.

"Fucking bullshit," Yuri says immediately, slightly breathless, very pink in the face.

"I'm not worried," Otabek repeats. He licks his lips, a little bit dazed. He leans back against the tree and closes his eyes, but Yuri can see he's affected.

"But this!" Yuri says loudly, glad that they're alone in the garden, and slams his hand down over Otabek's crotch, finding pleasant stiffness. And it has the added bonus of startling Otabek so much he almost jumps. His eyes fly open.

"Hey." He inhales sharply.

"No one's worried, okay?" Yuri leans forward, putting more pressure on his hand. "I'm pissed off at not getting to have everything I want in one place. It's my choice, but I'm still pissed off!"

Otabek grabs Yuri's wrist and gently moves his hand aside. "I'll miss you, too."

"Fuck," Yuri says. The garden makes it seem like they're alone, but they're not. He can't even grab his boyfriend's dick to make a point. Or to do anything more fun, either.

Otabek shifts his grip so he's holding Yuri's hand again, slowly stroking his palm. Yuri glares sullenly at him. The hand-holding isn't helping so he kicks Otabek, but Otabek catches his foot, too, although by letting go of his hand. And then Otabek strokes the bottom of Yuri's foot instead and Yuri aches, both from wanting to get off and from already missing Otabek. It's stupid and makes him scowl harder.

"You wanna move in together?" Otabek asks and Yuri lies down on the grass, shoving his other foot in Otabek's lap, too.

"Yeah," Yuri replies, eyes closed against the sun and the bright sky. They can't, of course, but he wants to. He throws his arm over his eyes to block the red glow of inside his eyelids.

"Yeah, me too," Otabek echoes him. He continues to rub Yuri's feet, pressing his thumbs into the tender instep. And Yuri can feel Otabek's hardon against the heel of one foot.

"Fuck!" Yuri yells towards the sky, venting his dissatisfaction. It's so stupid. Even if he wasn't going to Japan he still wouldn't be able to move in together with Otabek. But it does solidify the fact that if he's thinking about something like that, he really needs to face the consequences of his second-half jumps and tell Granpa already.

-

When the front door closes behind Granpa the next morning Yuri sits up on his mattress. When the old Lada starts up and then drives away, Yuri climbs into the creaky single bed with the still-sleeping Otabek.

"Hey," he says, shaking Otabek.

Otabek is slow to wake, and he's slept with his headphones on, so Yuri takes those off and shakes him again.

"Hey, we're alone for a couple of hours," Yuri says.

"Mm?" Otabek's eyes barely stay open. "What?"

"I need to get laid," Yuri spells out and peels off Otabek's thin blanket. Otabek grabs for it reflexively.

"But it's-" Otabek starts to say, eyes slowly gaining focus.

"It's 10am!" Yuri hisses. "And Granpa's gone!"

"It's too early," Otabek insists as they fight for the blanket, making the bed groan and shake.

"The fuck it is," Yuri huffs, but lets go of the blanket and instead straddles Otabek on the bed. He pulls off his old Spartak hockey t-shirt and starts gathering his hair back. "This is happening, Altin."

"Are you threatening me with sex?" Otabek asks, but watches without making a move to push Yuri away.

"I, uh… Fuck, am I?" Yuri stops and his hair just falls back down because he hasn't got a hairtie to use. He's not needed to persuade Otabek before, just grab him and it's go-time.

"Kinda," Otabek says and sits up. He pushes his fingers into Yuri's hair, holding it back as he kisses Yuri. But he stops too soon. "What's up?"

"We're alone and it's been _days_ and I'm leaving soon," Yuri says in one breath. "I'm gonna tell Granpa today and I just..." He digs his fingers into Otabek's shoulders, ducking his head to lean against him. "I need to get off."

"Okay," Otabek says and runs his nails gently along Yuri's scalp.

Yuri grunts, unable to form words under Otabek's fingers.

Otabek tilts Yuri's head back up to kiss him again. He tastes of sleep, but the taste only hits once and then Yuri forgets about it. But he pulls away when Otabek shifts forward, about to tip him down on the bed.

"Hey, Yura," Otabek says with a smug tinge to his otherwise still face when Yuri stops him. "Your hair won't get in the way if you're on the bottom."

"Fuck off, it hurts when it gets caught under something," Yuri says. But he's done arguing so he grabs Otabek with both his hands and legs and leans back to bring them both down on the bed, which shudders and squeaks under them.

It's kind of a mess, and Yuri's hair does get caught under his shoulder and afterwards under Otabek's hand, but they manage to get their clothes off. Much of the time that part's fun, too, but this time Yuri fails to appreciate it. He just wants to get off, and when he goes to grab Otabek, he pushes Yuri back.

"I got you," he says and goes down on Yuri.

Even with that Yuri takes a while to come. He's needy, yes, but he's also wound up with worry about telling his Granpa, and he can't separate the two. His orgasm isn't even all that satisfying either, it just leaves him drained. Otabek sits up afterwards and rubs his jaw a little, but says nothing.

When Yuri goes to repay the favour he finds Otabek's not even hard. "Beka, what the fuck?"

"I just woke up." Otabek shrugs. "I'm not there yet."

Yuri scowls, but it's aimed at himself. How the fuck didn't he notice that? He drops his head so his hair falls forward and he doesn't have to look at Otabek. "Thought you were up for it."

"No, I am," Otabek says. He puts both his arms around Yuri and pulls him down again, hugging him against his chest. "But you just came in my mouth and I'm still not sure _you_ were really up for it."

"Ugh," Yuri grunts. He probably was in too much of a hurry, but he doesn't feel like owning up to it.

Otabek brushes Yuri's hair aside and kisses the back of his neck. Otabek knows, anyway. "Let's try again," he says, the understanding fuck. "There's still time, right?"

Yuri sighs, but actually relaxes as Otabek keeps nosing into his neck. It's so undemanding that Yuri can actually concentrate on what he feels. It doesn't take very long for them both to be ready for it, and it's a much more successful attempt that time.

-

Ordinarily helping Granpa make _ukha_ is a calm time. And while this evening Yuri isn't calm, peeling potatoes and chopping carrots does have a soothing effect on him. The earlier business with Otabek helps, too. Now there's just the snikt-snikt of a knife on a cutting board and the smell of fresh fish as Granpa guts it and carefully removes the bones.

Then Yuri's knife starts to dawdle and the pieces of carrot he cuts are smaller and smaller because his mind wanders. That's when Granpa reaches over and lays his hand over Yuri's.

"Yurochka," he says. "Carrot chunks, not shredded carrot."

Yuri drops the knife because his hands aren’t steady enough to keep chopping. "Granpa, do you know who my father is?" It’s not what he’s meant to say, but it’s what comes out when he opens his mouth.

"No," Granpa replies, words measured. He collects the bigger pieces of carrot and puts them in the pot with the potatoes.

Yuri crosses his arms on the kitchen table and leans his head on them, a little bit disappointed. "Do you think she knows?" he mumbles. He’s stalling.

"Your mother never told me, if she does." In another pot Granpa puts the fish head and the bones, along with some halved vegetables and spices. It'll make the broth. He sounds sad and Yuri hates his mother even more for causing him pain.

"How'd it happen?" Yuri asks. It's never really been discussed, at least not with him. "I mean, how’d _I_ happen?"

"Yulechka," Granpa pauses after using the affectionate diminutive and gives a minute shake of his head. "No, Yuliya now. She is headstrong, like you, and I gave her too much freedom."

"So you blame yourself for her bullshit?" Yuri leaps to his grandfather's defence immediately. "I know you're her dad and all, but fuck."

Granpa drops bay leaves into the pot where he aims to make the fish stock and says nothing until Yuri catches on.

"Sorry, Granpa," he says. "But I'm right," he adds rebelliously.

"I reckon it happened towards the end of her one and only tour," Granpa continues after acknowledging Yuri's apology with a nod. He moves both the pots to the stove, one to boil the vegetables and one to cook down the stock. "There were other artists and musical troupes we travelled with and she made friends with many of them."

"So my father's some loser with a failed band," Yuri deduces.

"It was a difficult year," Granpa goes on, tending to the beginnings of the soup. The fish stock fills the kitchen with a familiar scent and the two cats are sitting attentively by the stove because of it. "Her mother died just before the tour was due to start. I wished she would stay home and grieve with me. She wished to go, and she always knew what she wanted. In the end, I had not the heart to tell her no."

"She didn't want me," Yuri mutters, getting back to sour. "And you're defending her again." She doesn't deserve Granpa's love and she sure as fuck doesn't deserve to make Granpa sad.

Granpa returns to the table and sits down slowly as though it hurts. "She thought your arrival would ruin everything, when it was her own actions and attitude which ruined what she had."

"Do you think-" Yuri starts, an uncomfortable brimming in his eyes and a squeeze in his chest. The last thing he wants is to disappoint or hurt his Granpa the way his mother's done.

"No, you are not your mother," Granpa cuts him off. He leans forwards over the table and his expression is beseeching. "And you are not alone against the world, Yurochka. You are far kinder than you think and you are honest to a fault, and I am incredibly proud of you no matter what."

Yuri's eyes fill and spill over when he blinks. It’s like his grandfather knows what he’s going to say. He doesn't let the tears fall far but wipes them away with a quick, shaky hand. "I'm gay," he chokes out.

Granpa's shoulders fall and his eyes are weary. "I know," he says.

Yuri inhales in surprise and it causes him to snort and sob at the same time. The water that he's refusing to let fall from his eyes makes its way down his throat and makes his voice thick. "How?"

"You wear your heart on your sleeve, Yurochka," Granpa replies. His words are short but not artless. His eyes make a brief movement towards the door of Yuri’s room beyond which is Otabek. So he's known all this time.

"Oh, no," Yuri wipes his face on the hem of his shirt. The flush of emotion leaves him with swollen eyes and a runny nose. There's a suspicious glimmer in Granpa's usually stoic eyes.

"I have known for a long time." Granpa clears his throat and gets a tissue out of his shirt pocket to dab at his eyes.

"How long?" Yuri's words tremble no matter how hard he tries to control it. Seeing his Granpa affected like this is heart-breaking.

"Reckon it has been a good ten years or so," Granpa says.

"Shit," Yuri says and sniffles again. "Sorry, Granpa. That long?"

"Yes. You were so taken with the man in your posters."

"But is it- Is it _okay_?" Yuri picks at the edge of the table. There's a spot where the wood is slowly splintering and he barely notices the bits that end up under his fingernails.

This time Granpa is startled. "Oh, little one," he says and gets up to come around the table. He leans down to give Yuri an awkward hug and his hands shake almost as much as Yuri's do.

"Granpa." Yuri slides off his chair so his grandfather doesn't have to bend down his bad back. "Is it really okay?" The shoulder of Granpa's shirt gets wet under Yuri's cheek as Granpa pats his back.

"Nothing has changed," Granpa murmurs and Yuri clings to him harder, muffling his sobs into his shirt. At least until he remembers who the man in his posters is.

"Oh fuck!" he cries and pulls back. "Sorry, Granpa, but _fuck_!"

"Yurochka…" Granpa starts, but Yuri backs away, towards the kitchen door.

"Sorry!" Yuri repeats and then dashes across the corridor and into his room, where Viktor stares at him from every vertical surface, and where Otabek is reclining on the bed with his laptop and headphones. He looks up when Yuri enters and moves his headphones down.

"Yura," he starts. "Are you oka-"

But Yuri barely sees him as he climbs on the bed to rip the posters of Viktor from his walls. "Fuck!" he yells. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"What?" Otabek has to duck to the side to protect himself and his laptop from falling posters and Yuri's tread. "Are you crying?"

"Fuck yes!" No point in hiding it. His face is still wet, but he doesn't have anything to blow his nose on so he just wipes the back of his hand across his face. "Told Granpa," he snaps, then pulls down another poster-proof of his childhood crush.

"What," Otabek repeats, having stowed his laptop away. "It went badly?"

"Ugh, no, it's fine. He knew," Yuri growls. "But this! Fucking Viktor!" Yuri gestures at his walls. "Why didn't you says it's weird to have all these pictures of him?"

"I thought you knew." Otabek is still sitting down, looking up at Yuri.

It stops Yuri because of course he knew. He put them up there. But it's been so long he no longer sees them that way. "Fuck!" he repeats and slumps down on the bed. "I had a crush on fucking _Viktor_!"

Otabek nods. "Yeah."

Yuri buries his face in his hands. "And you knew that."

"Yeah." Otabek moves around the bed, making it creak under their combined weight.

Yuri gives his face a rub then drops his hands and looks at Otabek. "Fuck everything," he mutters. "Just… fuck. He’s my fucking _coach_."

"Yeah," Otabek says for the third time.

"Does he know?" Yuri asks in a small voice which he hates.

Otabek shrugs. "Does it matter?"

"That means yes!" Yuri yells to compensate for the previous.

Otabek’s entirely serious face has a cast to it that spells unamused. "Do you still have a crush on him?"

"Fuck no!" Yuri snaps.

Otabek says nothing, but raises his eyebrows, which is what he does when he wants to point out Yuri’s bad behaviour. Or when he’s surprised. "Okay," he says. "Can you just start from the beginning?"

But Yuri doesn't answer him because Granpa has come to the doorway of his room, which is now not only a mess of his and Otabek's stuff, but also torn posters littering the floor. "Sorry, Granpa," Yuri says again. Granpa's eyes are a little red.

"Nothing to worry about," Granpa says. "But you were very noisy."

"I'm fine!" Yuri bounces up off the bed to show him. It's the real reason Granpa's there, to make sure he’s okay. "Everything's fine. I just..." He glances at Otabek, but he's no help. "I gotta redecorate."

Granpa nods. " _Ukha_ will be done soon."

"Yes, Granpa," Yuri says.

"Then I will leave you to it. Yurochka, Otabek." Granpa makes eye-contact with both of them and it just reminds Yuri that he knows. He's known all along why Otabek's there. _Fuck_.

"Mr Plisetsky," Otabek replies.

Granpa closes the door as he leaves and Yuri's shoulders slump. He kicks at the posters on the floor, but his feet ache as though he's been dancing ballet for hours. His eyes ache, too, but his heart no longer does. He inhales and exhales deeply, then drops to the floor, lying on his back.

"Fuck," he says, but conversationally. The good kind of exhaustion fills up his limbs and makes him feel pleasantly heavy. "He knew."

Otabek slides off the bed and joins him on the floor, making the old posters crackle as he lies down, too. He doesn't speak, but their shoulders touch.

"He said he's known for years, because of this bullshit." Yuri tries to grab a poster from under them, but only tears the corner of it. But it doesn't matter. He shreds the piece and scatters it as far as he can. "And he said he knew about us 'cause I'm so see-through or something."

"You don't hold back," Otabek confirms and Yuri elbows him.

"I’ve held back a lot," Yuri declares, and then something occurs to him as though the clouds are gone from his mind. "Like how you’re full of shit."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!" Yuri leans up on his elbow to stare down at Otabek. "You fucking lied to me. You said you weren’t rich."

Otabek has one arm under his head and he looks back at Yuri with a tiny curl of a smile on his lips. "I’m not," he says.

"You own horses! Only rich people own horses!"

"I guess my family’s pretty well off."

"Oh? _Oh_? But not _rich_?" Yuri sputters. It’s one and the same!

Otabek’s face blossoms into a crooked smile. "What’s it matter?"

"You smug fuck." Yuri shoves him, then leans over him. The horses are one thing, but the really important thing is that he’s come out to his grandfather. It’s hard to believe so he repeats it. "Hey, Beka. I told my Granpa."

"Yeah?" Otabek’s smile softens.

"Yeah. It went well." Yuri puts his forehead against Otabek’s. "I love my Granpa."

There’s a brief pause. Then Otabek huffs a breath of air across Yuri’s lips. "Wow. Not how I expected that sentence to end."

"What?" Yuri pulls back a little and swipes his hair behind his ear.

"You love your Granpa."

"Well, yeah?"

"No one else?"

"Potya," Yuri says and Otabek’s still smiling, almost looks like he’s about to laugh. And that’s when Yuri clocks on and sits up, face going red. "Literally go fuck yourself, Altin!"

"Okay, we’re not there yet." Otabek sits up, too, and pats Yuri’s knee.

Yuri kicks at him and leaps up. "You better love this soup," he growls.

"Yeah, I already do."


End file.
